


Burn Into Me

by LaMachina17



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BJYX | Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan is Real, Blow Jobs, DragonBoat Festival, During Filming of The Untamed (TV), Getting Together, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Past Referenced Sexual Assault, Romance, Romantic Yibo, Slow Burn, Top Wang Yi Bo/Bottom Xiao Zhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMachina17/pseuds/LaMachina17
Summary: Xiao Zhan has been burned before, by love, by sex, by the world. He knows better now. Stands apart from it better. Keeps his heart guarded better. As an idol, it's better not to let himself be burned.But then he is cast as Wei Wuxian and experiences the fire that is Wang Yibo.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 33
Kudos: 544
Collections: wang yibo and xiao zhan





	Burn Into Me

Whenever someone says, “it started innocently enough,” don’t believe them. It’s always a lie. Nothing is ever innocent; much the same way no one ever thinks a match will start a wildfire until the inferno is already blazing.

Xiao Zhan should have remembered this. He really should have, but he didn’t. That’s why, when Yibo decides to bring him starbucks one morning about a month into the filming of The Untamed, he doesn’t think as much of it as he probably should.

“Zhan-ge!”

The shout of his name comes as the stylist is yanking his hair back so she can get Wei Wuxian’s wig on his head. It’s early still, the sun not even up yet as he sits here in hair and make-up allowing himself to be dolled up, and Xiao Zhan is half snoozing in the chair despite the discomfort. He cracks an eye open and sees his co-star wearing an oversized hoodie and joggers.

“Bo-di?”

The man sets an iced coffee on the vanity in front of Xiao Zhan, pulls out his phone, and promptly begins to snap pictures of the older man.

“Even without his beauty sleep, Zhan-ge is most handsome.”

Xiao Zhan groans, giving the younger actor the side eye and holding a hand up to block the camera lens.

“Are we starting? This early?”

Yibo shoots him a shit-eating grin and shifts the plastic cup of coffee closer to him.

“Wake up, ge. We have a long day today.”

Xiao Zhan is stunned for all of five seconds before he has the presence of mind to mubble a quick “thank you” and take a sip of the drink, surprised to find that Yibo remembered his preference from when Ji Li took orders for a starbucks run a week ago .

Yibo gives him an even more radiant grin.

“Lao Xiao is delirious without caffeine in the morning.”

“Brat!” laughs Xiao Zhan taking a half-hearted swing at the laughing man’s arm. It doesn’t land, the man dancing out of the way as easily, ever the dancing king of China.

爱

Xiao Zhan was burned once. Anyone who has ever dated has been. Anyone who knows what it means to be LGBT knows what it means to be burned unexpectedly by someone you weren’t expecting to have that much power over you. You let yourself learn to trust someone, maybe you decide you love them, and then they pull the rug out from under you and set you on fire. The arsonist runs away unscathed and you are left with nothing but the ashes of your fragile heart in the aftermath.

The first boy Xiao Zhan thought he fell in love with had been his best friend in high school. They’d known each other since grade school, sang in the choir together, took art lessons together, even served on the student council together. It was his friend who kissed him first one day after classes were over and they were cleaning up the art room.

Xiao Zhan, barely sixteen, with no knowledge whatsoever of what it means to be gay or bisexual, fell hard and fast for his friend’s doting smiles and sweet compliments towards him, for their shared touches, innocent and little more than cuddles at the time. He thought he was in love, so he said as much. The friend, however, gave him one last kiss before telling him they couldn’t really be a thing. That love was for boys and girls not boys and boys. That they could mess around all they wanted, but it’s not like they were dating, and what was Xiao Zhan some kind of ‘homo’.

It had hurt being burned for the first time.

But Xiao Zhan had decided to smile through it and move on, going through that day as if nothing happened. And if, when he was particularly mopey at him, his father asked if a girl had broken his heart at school, he merely nodded his head, went back to his room, and soaked the burn with his tears.

爱

He tells himself at first that it’s just character bleed, Wei Wuxian’s feelings for Lan Wangji bleeding from the pages of the script into his psyche and making him build up an infatuation for a man who was cast perfectly for the role of the cold and indifferent Hanguang-Jun. The type of no-nonsense person that makes keeping a professional relationship easy even if the director practically commands him to throw himself at the twenty year old during script readings. But hey, that’s what Wei Wuxian had done, hadn’t he? Snuck his way in Lan Wangji’s very soul with loud laughter, foolish pranks, and the shameless doling out of affectionate teasing.

More opportunity for character study.

Except once the man warms up to him, Yibo is not at all like Lan Wangji. He laughs, he plays, he gives Xiao Zhan back as well as he receives. Hell, he returns it back tenfold. He teases Xiao Zhan about his age, calls him Lao Xiao and Zhan-ge. He is ridiculously good at all of the games they play around the set. (Xiao Zhan learned the hard way not to play slap-hands with the kid, but at least he learned that lesson faster than Ji Li had.) They fight and bicker and blow rainbow farts at each other between takes, and then rinse and repeat the behavior after the cut has been called.

Save him! Yibo’s behavior is borderline flirtatious %90 of the time. He demands so much of Xiao Zhan’s attention he nicknames him “puppy” affectionately. (Well, that’s one place the nickname stems from. The other is the fact that should Xiao Zhan ever even remotely try to ignore him, the man sets him with the biggest puppy-dog eyes Xiao Zhan has ever seen.) Never once does Xiao Zhan mind the attention, even if it does annoy their co-workers, though even they make peace with it quickly enough, rolling their eyes at them and sharing exasperated looks whenever Xiao Zhan and Yibo start in on each other for the day.

He even hears about a bet between Yu Bin, Wang Zhoucheng, and a few other cast members on whether or not they are boning yet. Xuan Lu puts a stop to that pretty quickly, depositing two small stacks of yuan in front of Xiao Zhan and Yibo one morning without much explanation other than that their cast mates are idiots.

Despite the strangeness of the gift, the funds go to a good cause since the next time they have an evening off that doesn’t preclude an early morning call, they go out for hot pot together.

It isn’t a date or anything, and Xiao Zhan repeats this mantra over and over in his head even as Yibo tells him that he asked his assistant to wait half the day so they could get a good table. They are just two co-workers going out for small talk and dinner. 

It’s nice getting to sit in front of his co-star without being drenched in sweat and needing touch-ups every five fucking minutes because his pores won’t cooperate with him. They share a pot, even though Yibo stops him from ordering the spiciest soup on the menu, and he settles for a half and half mixture instead, and even this Yibo struggles with, despite his choice of a very mild sesame oil sauce. The Chongqing in Xiao Zhan cringes at the choice.

Xiao Zhan teases him relentlessly for it, but he commends the other man when he braves a taste of the chili and garlic sauce Xiao Zhan prefers. He pays for the decision pretty quickly though, but Yibo laughs through the pain good-naturedly enough. 

They chat about a lot of different things. Yibo tells him about his interest in training to become a pro motorcycle racer and how he just started to learn how to skateboard from a friend. When he asks about Xiao Zhan’s time in college and working as a graphic designer, Xiao Zhan expects him to listen politely before moving to change the topic to something more exciting, something more in line with the entertainment industry, but he doesn’t. He asks questions instead, and hangs on to Xiao Zhan’s words like they are spun gold.

“So Xiao Zhan is not only handsome but also a talented master of visual art. How does he keep all of his admirers at bay?”

Suddenly, he feels hotter than if they were standing out in the sun getting ready to film the damned reunion scene between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji again, both of their robes hiked as high as possible to prevent the both of them from melting under the onslaught of the temperature. It’s enough to make his face heat up. 

He blames it on the hot pot, and prays he isn’t as red as he thinks he might be.

“I could ask the same of Lao Wang, couldn’t I? So talented and good looking, the girls fall all over him and the men want to be him.”

Yibo chucks a balled up napkin at his face. He is laughing so hard he doesn’t quite catch what Yibo mutters under his breath at that, but when he asks, the man brushes it off as nothing choosing instead to ask why he liked painting so much.

“It’s peaceful, I guess. I can focus on tiny details for hours and then when I step back, I have this finished product that I can be proud of. It’s rewarding.”

“I get that.”

“You do?” he asks, skeptical about how an adrenaline junkie like Yibo could possibly fathom the meaning of the word zen.

“Hell yeah! Well, I don’t get anything to show for it, but cruising through the city at 3 in the morning. No one on the road. Just you, the pavement, and your pulse. The hum of the motor and the stillness of the world as you ride past it. It’s pretty damn cathartic.”

Xiao Zhan can’t help but nod at that.

“Sounds nice.”

“Duh!” says Yibo, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, and Xiao Zhan can’t help but admire that young face, cocky grin and all. “It’s like what you said about when you’re painting. It’s that subspace that you can’t find anywhere else. When you’re completely immersed in something you love without distraction. The rest falls away and the world goes still. Kind of like sex but different.”

Xiao Zhan almost spits out his drink at that, but he resolutely swallows, coughing only twice before responding. 

“Never thought to make that comparison.”

Now the brat is practically gloating in his seat as he grins at Xiao Zhan.

“Zhan-ge, you should try it some time.”

This is the point where Xiao Zhan reminds himself that Yibo is a terror, six years his junior, and probably very straight. It doesn’t matter how touch starved or undersexed Xiao Zhan may or may not be, he needs to get his head out of his ass right the fuck now because Yibo is not propositioning him. Would not proposition him in a thousand years. 

This sentiment is only affirmed when Yibo deems he’s stewed in his own awkwardness long enough to ask him to show him some of his work. It is a safe topic change, one Xiao Zhan is happy to follow Yibo’s lead on, so he pulls out his phone, and takes it all in stride as Yibo farts rainbows all over his work.

Xiao Zhan closes their meal with a yogurt that should save Yibo’s stomach any undue pain, and before long his phone is ringing in his pocket. It’s his manager calling to remind him that his car is outside waiting for him and that he still has to finish making script notes for “Joy of Life” before it gets much later.

It makes for a bit of a disappointment that their evening is cut short, but the restaurant will be closing soon anyway, and Yibo has his own commitments to take care of as well. So they pile into separate cars and are whisked away to their separate sleeping arrangements.

Awkward sexually charged exchange aside, their conversation echoes pleasantly in Xiao Zhan’s head the rest of the night, and if sleep comes easily, he chalks it up to having a belly full of good food and the peace of mind that comes in the aftermath of good social interaction.

爱

Two months into filming, they start to touch on some of the more emotionally taxing scenes of the series namely Shijie’s death, Qiongqi Pass, the Yiling Supervisory Office and Wei Wuxian’s return as a demonic cultivator, and the massacre of Lotus Pier. It all serves to put Xiao Zhan in a very turbulent place. Wang Yibo, he finds, is equally affected. They play harder on set, try to make each other break more from laughter, and make general nuisances of themselves because if they’re doing that, then they aren’t fighting tooth and nail to stay above water. Scratching their way up from the vast pit of despair that is their character’s experience in relation to trauma they can barely hope to imagine. 

Coming out of character is especially hard after the Nightless City filming. Twelve hours straight on the set from dusk ‘til dawn. When the cut is called and the director announces they are done for the day, he wilts feeling too raw to drag himself to the make-up trailer just yet. He is an exposed nerve, achy and inflamed. His skin flaying from his corpse. Xiao Zhan’s voice is shot from screaming. His head and eyes hurt from crying. His waist hurts from being on the wires for so long. 

He drags himself to a secluded corner of the set, but Yibo is already there, quietly wrestling himself back together after living in the moment of Lan Wangji watching Wei Wuxian, his soul mate, the love of his life, fall to his death. No, not just fall, throw himself into the fire.

He sees the young man looking vulnerable and just as raw. Yibo has his hands braced against the concrete wall, head bowed down and eyes screwed shut. Xiao Zhan moves to go, leaving his fellow actor to his character’s grief, but Yibo’s voice stops him.

“Ge?”

“Yibo,” he answers, and then steps a little closer to Yibo to set a comforting hand on the younger’s shoulder. He looks around for cameras or snoops, finds a few and nudges Yibo further behind a prop so they can at least get the same measure of privacy afforded ordinary people.

Yibo turns to look at him, his eyes red and puffy, fighting tears. He is breathing hard, shaking his head, and stuttering through some sentence or other that Xiao Zhan can’t understand yet empathizes with implicitly. He hushs him, angles his body to act as a barrier between Yibo and anyone else who may pass by.

“Yibo, Yibo… It’s alright. Just let it out. Exorcise it.”

And he does. 

Wang Yibo, still dressed in Lan Wangji’s bloodied robes, folds himself into his Zhan-ge’s arms and cries. For the life of him, Xiao Zhan feels like he is holding a delicate flame in his arms; is afraid to move should he accidently snuff the tiny light out as he wrestles down his own storm of character bleed. Xiao Zhan rubs small circles into his back and whispers meaningless stupidities into his ear until the character melts away and Yibo’s composure returns to him. As Yibo returns, so does Xiao Zhan, Wei Wuxian’s turbulence, his madness, his pain, dripping from him to form a puddle at their feet that he will have to scoop back up and drink again later, but for the moment Wang Yibo’s light is glowing again, bright enough that Xiao Zhan is no longer worried it will be smothered.

Yibo says something about his age that is at once an insult and a thank you, and Xiao Zhan smacks him with Chenqing before forcing his feet to carry him to the trailer so they can strip off the garments that link them to their fictional counterparts.

He makes it back to the hotel and passes out.

It is not restful sleep, full of script-readings and set pieces, screams and nightmares where he is no longer Xiao Zhan but Wei Wuxian, out of his mind from grief and out for blood, his own included. All of it culminating in him shoving away the hand of the last person who truly loved him to plummet to his death. 

He isn’t sure how long he is falling when he is suddenly ripped from slumber by someone knocking on his door.

He wakes with a gasp and has to stifle a scream, which is not at all how he portrayed Wei Wuxian waking up after being dead for sixteen years. He’s been asleep for less than an hour and yet he feels he’s lived a lifetime of pain and anguish since he closed his eyes. For a split second, he doesn’t know where he is. When he figures that out, he actually panics at the prospect that some crazed fans or paparazzi may have found the location of his hotel room. An unlikely but very real possibility that makes him want to curl back under the covers and hide.

His phone buzzes. When he checks it, he sees a notification from Yibo.

_Ge, It’s me. Let me in._

Xiao Zhan winks at the message for a few seconds before understanding dawns. He pulls himself out of bed, stumbling his way to the door drunk on sleep deprivation. He flips the lights on, and checks the peephole to see that it is indeed Yibo standing on the other side, his bike helmet tucked under his arm.

He opens the door.

“What are you doing here?”

Yibo looks taken aback for second looking Xiao Zhan up and down before speaking.

“Put some clothes on. We’re going riding.”

Xiao Zhan’s eyes go wide for two reasons. First, he realizes that he’s answered the door in nothing but an undershirt and boxers. Two: Yibo is holding a spare helmet in his free hand. Xiao Zhan goes still, and he thinks for a moment he may understand why deer freeze in the wake of an oncoming car.

“Haha! You’re kidding, right?”

“没有 (Méiyǒu),” says Yibo, shaking his head in the negative. He pushes past Xiao Zhan and into the hotel room, stripping off his mask as he goes.

Xiao Zhan lets the door close.

“Yibo, I can’t even ride a regular bike let alone a motorized one. You really think throwing me on a motorcycle is a good idea?”

“To be fair, I did think about bringing you some painting stuff instead,” Xiao Zhan’s mouth gapes at that. What? He is thoroughly confused now. Thankfully, Yibo isn’t looking at him as he struts into the room because he probably looks a bit like a giant koi fish at the moment. “But I didn’t know what to get, and you don’t exactly have hours upon hours of alone time to paint, so this was the next best thing I could think of.”

Yibo finally turns back to look at him and his mouth snaps shut with a click.

“Look, you don’t have to do anything other than hold onto my waist. In fact, it’s better that you do nothing. Let me do the work.”

“Yibo-”

“Xiao Zhan,” snipped the twenty-year-old. “You helped me out this morning. Let me return the favor, and don’t lie to me and say playing out Wei Wuxian committing suicide didn’t fuck with your head.”

He suddenly remembers their conversation over hotpot, how Yibo’s motorcycle rides help him clear his mind, and realizes that Yibo is trying to offer him that same quiet in the aftermath of their shared character bleed.

Xiao Zhan is touched, but…

“I thought you said that it was best at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“That’s only because Beijing doesn’t sleep. Dongyang is practically rural in comparison. Besides, we’re on the outskirts of the city, and rush hour isn’t for another two hours.”

When Xiao Zhan still fails to properly connect his brain to his body, Yibo digs around through Xiao Zhan’s suitcase and chucks a pair of jeans at the speechless man’s head.

“Thirty minutes around Hengdian. I promise you won’t regret it.”

There’s the puppy dog look again, only it’s colored by Yibo’s set jaw and furrowed brow. Aiya! Doesn’t the boy know he shouldn’t do that. He’ll give himself wrinkles by the time he’s 24.

“Alright, fine! Just stop looking at me like that.”

Yibo smirks.

“Like what, Ge?”

Xiao Zhan ignores him as he pulls on the jeans and a random t-shirt and finds himself a mask, but before he heads out the door, Yibo cautions him to wear something long sleeved, preferably leather if he has it. He doesn’t, so he chooses a thicker track sweater instead. It isn’t until he is staring Yibo’s “girlfriend” in the face that he starts to really worry.

“Have you ever ridden with a passenger before?”

“No, but it’ll be fine.”

“Wang Yibo!” he shrieks quietly enough to not be heard by any passersby but enough to get his scolding tone across. He does this even as he is still resolutely still strapping on the helmet Yibo handed him. He may be tightening it a bit too much, but he’s nervous. Sue him!

“Zhan-ge,” comes Yibo’s chiding whine as though Xiao Zhan is the one barely past his adolescence. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

With that Xiao Zhan sighs completely, shoulders dropping as the tension leaves his body. Well, if he dies today, he dies today. It was a good run of twenty-six years. Hopefully, that won’t happen though. He follows Yibo’s instructions as he wedges himself in behind the other man and method acts the characterization of a sack of potatoes under Wang Yibo’s directives as Yibo pulls the bike out of the parking spot. He takes a couple of circuits around the lot at a lower speed until Xiao Zhan’s heart stops feeling like it is about to fly out of his chest. Then, he is pulling out on the roads, and Xiao Zhan is forced to grip tighter around Yibo’s waist as they accelerate.

Gradually, the stiffness and the anxiety in Xiao Zhan’s body diminishes. Yibo’s body is solid and secure in front of him, the wind is blowing through his clothes, and it’s like the world narrows down. They have nowhere to be, no one to answer to, and nothing to impede them. Yibo doesn’t look back at him save for when they are at a red light, eyes shining under the glass of the face screen, and when they pull out onto a vacant country road, Xiao Zhan taps Yibo on the shoulder in a signal that he is okay to go faster and then...that is something else.

Yibo is right. He is inexplicitly and irrevocably correct. 

There is a type of zen to be found at 90km/hr.

It’s been much longer than 30 minutes riding around on the outskirts of the city by the time Yibo drops him back off at his hotel. Xiao Zhan, still bone weary but feeling light, makes his way up to his room and back into bed after a quick shower.

There are no more nightmares.

爱

“What has your panties in a bunch?”

Meng Ziyi is blunt as usual, and Xiao Zhan startles from looking at his phone as she nudges him with her shoulder. The added warmth of another human body near him is not appreciated at the moment. He is sweating through at least five coats of makeup and setting powder, he is wearing the thickest set of robes yet, and to top it all off he is stumbling over his lines like the amateur actor he knows he is but is trying really hard to be better than. Really Cangse Sanren and Boashan Sanren! What was the author thinking?

“Excuse me.”

“You’re quiet today. Or at least quieter than you ever are. Or is it because our favorite gremlin isn’t on set today?”

“What?”

“Yibo! Wang Yibo! I feel like Wei Wuxian is about to go into a qi deviation from the lack of Lan Wangji action.”

Ah, yes. They are filming the Yunmeng Jiang massacre arc and currently working their way through the various scenes of the Jiang siblings dealing with the biggest loss of their lives. He feels cried out and torn open. For a moment, he thought there was more snot on his face than there was makeup, and even Xuan Lu has a headache from all of the crying they’ve done together. Meanwhile, Wang Zhoucheng has been happily pretending to sleep through their crisis. It had been amusing watching Xuan Lu bash him for enjoying their pain, but the amusement hadn’t lasted long.

It is too goddamn hot, and there isn’t much around to distract him from the desire to peel his skin off. So sorry if he is less than sociable at the moment.

“Spill,” Ziyi demands suddenly.

“Spill what?”

The woman gives him a stern stare, but he’s too sleepy and heat clogged to realize why.

“You and Yibo.”

“What about me and Yibo?” he snips back. She looks like she wants to hit him.

“Are you fucking yet or not?”

That kick starts his system.

“What! No!”

“Bullshit.”

“True shit! We’re just friends.”

She looks skeptical.

“Mmhm, and I suppose all friends react the way you did when he fell out the other day.”

Yes, Wang Yibo had fallen out from heat exhaustion during filming two days ago. It was part of the reason they were filming the Yunmeng Siblings’ tragedy arc so soon. They’d had to shuffle around the shooting schedule since they would be lacking their second lead because of it. 

Xiao Zhan had been on his way to check in on Yibo who had been standing by waiting to be cued while Xiao Zhan finished his scene. The younger man had been looking pale, going back and forth between the dressing room and the restroom, uncharacteristically withdrawn and quiet for the majority of the day. Xiao Zhan barely had any chance to say anything to him before Yibo fainted, Xiao Zhan lungeing to catch him before he bashed his head open on a piece of machinery. He’d been in a panic afterwards, only reigning in as they changed sets and sat him back in hair and makeup for the different span of time in the drama.

“Heat stroke kills people, Meng Ziyi. Of course I was concerned. We all were.”

And seeing someone like Yibo, who is a force of nature, succumb to something like that really puts into perspective how puny and insignificant they all are in the grand scheme of things.

“Director Chen told us yesterday that he was discharged but had another engagement to attend, yet you are still worried.”

So what if he is still worried that he hasn’t heard from Yibo since he was taken to the hospital. That’s just because Yibo is his didi. As a gege, he is obligated to worry about his younger colleagues. That’s just the way things are.

“He hasn’t responded back to my message yet.”

Which is a ridiculous reason to remain worried. He winces at that. Yibo is constantly surrounded by gege who care for him, from his TTXS brothers to his racing brothers and of course his UNIQ bandmates who he still remains in touch with. Who was Xiao Zhan to someone so loved and respected? He’d only known the idol for two months. He sounds forlorn and lovesick, and Meng Ziyi is giving him a knowing look that is spot on for when Wen Qing is dealing with Wei Wuxian’s own bullshit when it comes to Lan Wangji.

“And now you look like a pining girlfriend.”

Xiao Zhan just shakes his head. He is more than done with this conversation, so he gets up and leaves to go run his lines again elsewhere. Maybe this take he won’t swallow his own tongue.  
And if he receives a WeChat from Yibo telling him he is fine, apologizing for making him worry, it is most certainly not the reason the remainder of the day feels a little lighter.

爱

There is a certain strangeness in knowing that out of most of his co-stars, he is one of the only ones who went to university, one of the only ones who got to experience the craziness that is being away from home for the first time and thrust into the incredibly liberal environment of an arts college as a legal adult.

Late night study halls, post-exam celebration parties, all-night karaoke, and the hook-ups that followed when an eighteen year old Xiao Zhan discovered very quickly how much he enjoyed sex. Sex with girls was enjoyable but sex with men... what an entirely different thing, extraordinary in a way that was different than anything a young Xiao Zhan had ever experienced and discovered with one of his gege late one study session when Xiao Zhan’s two roommates had gone out on a food run. The older boy had been kind and helpful, sweet and charming, and things had gone from studious to something else entirely very quickly.

The senior had been Xiao Zhan’s first male bedfellow, and he’d made it good for him, even allowing Xiao Zhan to top. Good enough that Xiao Zhan started to suspect he might prefer having sex with men. They dated for a while, Xiao Zhan and his senior, before Xiao Zhan built up enough courage to allow the older man to penetrate him, and oh... It certainly helped solidify his preference for receiving.  
Unfortunately, that little revelation led to the two splitting, wanting different things from their partner. It had been an amiable enough parting, but the gege had left him with some parting words of wisdom the Xiao Zhan hadn’t since forgotten.

“It’s good that’s your preference, Zhan-di. If you want to be having sex with men, and I mean a lot of sex, you’d best be prepared to bottom a lot. You’d be surprised how many repressed assholes there are out there who think they’re too _猛男 Měngnán_ to even care if you’re having a good time, let alone bottom themselves.”

For a long time, Xiao Zhan didn’t think much of that statement, happy to conduct himself the way he liked. Most of his partners in college were mindful enough, even if they weren’t necessarily great bedmates. The guys were selfish, but they never hurt him, at least, and he quickly learned how to make it good for himself when necessary. Most of them didn’t care to see his face, and he prefered to let them take him from behind anyway so he didn’t have to focus on them any more than the feel of their wrapped dicks inside him. 

For four years, he lived his best life, seeing who he wanted when he wanted and not giving much of a care about otherwise. He even dated a few different people for a while, going steady with one or two during his school years. Four years after having sex with a man for the first time, he graduated with honors, reentered the real world, and resubmerged himself in the shocking reality of conservative China as a graphic designer. For the most part, not much changed other than he had to be a bit more discreet about his extracurricular activities until everything tilted on its axis. It wasn’t long after that he realized exactly what being a bisexual/gay man meant in China. 

He’d left the bar with a guy, let him take him to a nearby hotel, and gotten down to business. He was feeling good, enjoying himself, finding his orgasm by helping himself through the rough pace the other man set. As he was coming down from his high though, he realized that his partner for the evening had pulled away. The snap of rubber confirmed for him that his bedmate was indeed done, so he started to get up from his hands and knees when he was shoved back down, the man’s hands on his shoulders pushing his face into the mattress.

His eyes widened at the rough handling, and he let out a strangled yelp as the man shoved back into him, and Xiao Zhan panicked. The man was no longer wearing a condom.

“What are you doing?”

He started to struggle up and away, but the guy, bigger and stronger than him, held him down easily, and the position he was in put him at an extreme disadvantage.

“Just a bit more, baby. I can’t come with a condom on. Don’t worry, I’m clean.”

“This is not what we discussed.”

“Shut up, biǎozi (婊子). I’m almost done.”

The insult stunned him as the man held him down, finishing his business so harshly it actually hurt. Xiao Zhan had never felt more violated in his life. And if the man slipped on a wedding ring on his way out the door, Xiao Zhan didn’t have it in him to care, the need to get himself home so strong Xiao Zhan all but shook with it. 

Blood and semen washed down the drain that night as he scrubbed himself raw in the shower. 

He didn’t go to the doctor to get checked over for any tearing that may have been serious, too scared to have to explain it in light of day. He did however get himself tested about a week later, too strung up in knots at the fact that a man had forced unprotected sex on him to neglect that for too long. He still thanks his ancestors that his results came back clean. When he inquired about filing a report, he found out that rape between men just wasn’t recognized in his country, and that the best he would be able to charge his assailant for was “intentional injury” at the cost of outing himself and bringing shame on himself and his family. 

He found himself in a reality where he had no voice and no identity. It wasn’t fair.

The only person he told was his college gege, who responded with some sympathy, but mostly told him to put it out of his mind.

“It comes with the territory, Zhan-di. Count your blessings and try to forget about it.”

So he did. He moved on, stopped messing around with men, settling with women from time to time, and even that tapered away as time went on after trying to date one or two to no luck, so instead, he focused on his work and not making waves in the white-collar world of China.

Then he got cast in X-Fire. Made it to the finals.

He makes his debut as an idol in XNINE, and Xiao Zhan finds himself in this weird in-between world where the art is important but toeing the line is frowned upon. Controversy is good in small doses but never to be indulged in. He is ogled and adored. Even though he is the oldest of them, his bandmates dote on him like a didi. He learns what skinship is and doesn’t mind it too much even when bandmates get a little more touchy feely than he would necessarily enjoy. It’s all for the cameras anyway. Every day feels like a whirlwind of activity. He meets so many people and shakes so many hands. He does as he’s told and his fame starts to spread. 

Sex becomes an afterthought and a very real risk after that. A need he swallows down and represses even though his bandmates like to crow about their conquests: some pretty fan at their last fanmeet, a back-up dancer at their last concert, one of the interviewers who had been trying to flirt with Xiao Zhan but settled for one of his bandmate instead. It’s too risky and too personal to indulge in casual affairs let alone actually date someone, and he learns about the horrors of non-disclosure contracts and settlements when a romance sours, and he is not about to deal with that. So he dives into furthering his career.

He starts acting, finds he enjoys it, keeps going to auditions and lands the part of Wei Wuxian the lead of a drama based on a danmei novel. When he finds out Wang Yibo has been cast as his opposite, Lan Wangji, he nods his head, vaguely remembering the nineteen year old he met on some variety show the year prior, never suspecting the curveball that the universe was about to throw his way.

He still hasn’t realized it. Not really. Not even as he dangles zongzi over Yibo’s open hand.

爱

Yibo invites him to sushi. It’s unexpected. The rest of the cast are going out for hotpot later, but it would seem Yibo has other ideas, and as selfish as it is, Xiao Zhan accepts, although he has to remind Yibo that he doesn’t get done until later since he’ll be one of the last actors on set today shooting some solo scenes. This doesn’t seem to bother Yibo in the slightest, he merely messages him the location of the restaurant and says:

“I’ll wait for you.”

And he does. 

Xiao Zhan feels more than a little guilty by the time he arrives at the Japanese restaurant. Filming went overtime, and Xiao Zhan barely spares himself the base amount of time necessary to shower the dirt and sweat off of his body before going to meet his co-star. At least he had had the presence of mind to message Yibo when a camera went down and needed to be repaired.

When he finally does make it, Yibo seems unbothered, more than understanding of the ‘powers that be’ interfering with Xiao Zhan’s arrival. They chat for a bit outside before heading in, their staff staying a respectable distance back before leaving them entirely as they settle. The both of them saying they will find their way back themselves at the end of the night. It’s enjoyable hearing Yibo talk about his various projects and being able to share some of the things he is working on as well. Xiao Zhan doesn’t even really notice the time as they eat and talk. 

Before they know it, one of the waitstaff is bringing them their check. They finished eating a while ago, and have been talking back and forth for a little over an hour which is ridiculous because they see each other all the time. Xiao Zhan picks up his phone to pay, but before he can finish pulling up his app, Yibo has already paid.

“Bo-di! It’s the senior that is supposed to pay for the meal.”

Yibo brushes him off.

“Zhan-ge. This isn’t about seniors and juniors.”

“Oh?”

“Hey, ge. You have more Zongzi back at your hotel, don’t you?”

“You’re still hungry?”

“No, Zhan-ge just makes good food, and I wouldn’t mind hanging out a while longer.”

Xiao Zhan checks the time again.

“Yibo, don’t you have a flight at the crack of dawn tomorrow?”

Yibo shrugs.

“Earlier than that. I’m supposed to be filming for Happy Camp tomorrow, but,” the shorter male hesitates for a moment before meeting Xiao Zhan’s eye, “sleep is overrated, and I’d rather hang out with Zhan-ge.”

The way he says that strikes a chord in Xiao Zhan. It isn’t sensual per se, but it isn’t exactly innocent either. It is blunt and honest, very Yibo in delivery.

“Besides, didn’t you want to make a weibo post for the festival today? I’ll help you.”

“Alright,” Xiao Zhan concedes. “But don’t you dare complain to me when your stylist is yelling at you for having to cover up the bags under your eyes.”

Yibo cracks a grin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ge.”

爱

So they go back to Xiao Zhan’s hotel room.

The ease that had been comfortably rolling through Xiao Zhan’s limbs all through dinner has been replaced with tension. Xiao Zhan doesn’t quite know where it is coming from, but as soon as the door closes behind him, he is hyper aware of Yibo’s presence at his side. He shouldn’t be.

They’ve been in each other’s rooms before, mostly to practice lines, which is obviously more for Xiao Zhan’s benefit than Yibo’s, and block out scenes together. Occasionally to unwind and play video games after a long day of filming, but after a dinner that felt far more like a date than any other Xiao Zhan had ever been on, the air feels charged.

Yibo must pick on it because he pulls his phone out and shoves the camera in Xiao Zhan’s face.

“Which perfect side of Lao Xiao will we share with the masses today?”

Xiao Zhan shoves him away and they devolve into their usual play fighting that has Xiao Zhan laughing at himself for working himself up over nothing. Xiao Zhan gets a good knock on Yibo’s shoulder, and in retaliation, Yibo catches Xiao Zhan’s wrist and pulls before he can back out of range. The movement lines their bodies up hip to shoulder, and stuns Xiao Zhan long enough for Yibo to snap a photo. His mission accomplished, Yibo lets go and shuffle-steps his way back and out of Xiao Zhan’s swinging range.

“Yibo, are you even human?!”

Yibo just laughs at him as Xiao Zhan plops himself down on the couch.

“Sorry, sorry. I should better mind the sensibilities of old men.”

Yibo sits as well, and Xiao Zhan’s socked foot nudges him in the leg.

“Brat!”

“So what are you thinking for your post?”

Oh right, that’s a thing. Xiao Zhan pulls his phone out of his pocket, setting it on the table before going over to the mini-fridge and pulling out the bundle of zongzi still left from the day.  
“I just wanted to get a couple of shots of the zongzi. Maybe write something about peace and love in honor of the festival.”

“Cool! Let’s do it!” responds Yibo in a mix of English and Chinese.

Xiao Zhan organizes the zongzi to dangle over the lid of the wicker basket and then lets Yibo hold the zongzi strings while he takes a couple of shots. He holds the phone back out to Yibo.

“Which one is the best?”

Yibo scrolls through the photos before looking up.

“None of them.”

“What?”

“They aren’t good enough, Zhan-ge. Your fans deserve better.”

This little shit! Xiao Zhan was a professional photographer before he became an entertainer. He steals the phone back from Yibo and furiously scrolls through the photos. There are at least three that are perfectly framed for a social media post. Yibo watches him do this with amusement in his eyes.

“Lao-Xiao,” he sing-songs. “You can do better.”

“Well, excuse me for being subpar. How exactly do you propose making it better?”

“Xiao Zhan’s fans should get to see his handsome face.”

Xiao Zhan gives him a skeptical look.

“Is that so?”

“Hn.”

Yibo doesn’t give him much more response than that, looking at Xiao Zhan expectantly.

“How Lan Wangji of you…” he scowls.

But it isn’t. Not really. The way Yibo’s smile is crooked and the teasing glint to his eyes is much more akin to Wei Wuxian’s brand of teasing than anything else, but that’s not right either.

Yibo tosses two of the zongzi at Xiao Zhan, and he is surprised that he manages to catch the bamboo wrapped parcels. Yibo picks up Xiao Zhan’s phone from where he dropped it and unlocks it, holding it up with the camera open and ready to take a picture. Xiao Zhan is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, he has no makeup on, he is wearing sporty shorts which means his legs are showing, and he has zero product in his hair.

“Yibo!”

“Zhan-ge is handsome just as he is.”

The way Yibo says that. The blatant honesty behind his words. It is nowhere near Wei Wuxian’s type of boldness. This is something that is wholly Yibo. Overwhelming and all-encompassing like the man himself. It’s bright and youthful and brazen in a way that makes Xiao Zhan’s heart skip a beat. 

Xiao Zhan sighs and raises the two pieces up and gives a close-lipped smile to the camera. It’s a little forced but it’s gentle on his face, not his award-winning smile by any means, but Yibo gives him a small framing direction and snaps the shot anyway before turning the phone to show the picture to Xiao Zhan. It’s a good photo. Suitable enough for social media.

“Fine, fine. I’ll use it.”

“See,” teases the twenty-year old as Xiao Zhan takes the phone from Yibo, types a quick positive message to the masses, and posts it to his weibo. “Zhan-ge’s beauty is unparalleled, even if he gave his didi a fake smile just then.”

Xiao Zhan’s ears heat up before Yibo’s full sentence can register in his mind. He lets out an indignant laugh at the man’s audacity before chucking the zongzi in his hand at him. He misses and the brat snaps a picture of him mid-laugh with his own phone before he starts miming a fainting fangirl.

“A real smile from Lao Xiao. I have been blessed.”

He throws the other sachet at him. It also misses, and Yibo collects the two rogue zongzi off the floor.

“Lao Wang has no respect for this gege,” whines Xiao Zhan while Yibo puts the zongzi back in the fridge. He sets his phone on the table and stretches backwards feeling a few kinks work themselves out in his back.

“Ge has the cutest pouty face. How could this poor didi resist?”

Yibo lets the refrigerator door shut with a dull thud and saunters back to the couch. He makes a show of opening his weibo, pointing out that there are already multiple hits and likes on the post Xiao Zhan uploaded.

“Lao Xiao’s fans love to see his hairy legs,” goads Yibo as he plunks himself down into the cushions. Xiao Zhan kicks him again.

This time though, Yibo catches his ankle in hand, and time stops.

Yibo’s grip is firm and searing. Xiao Zhan’s breath catches in his chest. Yibo’s boundless brown eyes are positively smouldering. The intensity of his gaze is both disarming and all-encompassing. His face heats up, his whole body going stock still under the predatory look. Like an ungulate about to be eaten.

He swallows thickly around the tension once again building in his throat, and forces out a quiet, “Yibo?” The man doesn’t respond verbally. He moves instead.

Yibo drags him down the couch until his knee meets Yibo’s hip. Xiao Zhan’s shirt rides up a bit. Yibo shifts onto one knee and presses forward, closing the space between them. Xiao Zhan still has his right leg underneath him but his back is now pressing into the cushions, almost lying completely on the couch, his shoulders and head still propped up on the arm of the couch. Yibo angles himself above Xiao Zhan, his left hand bracing his weight as he leans over the older man.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo’s lips hover less than a breath away from his. “Tell me to leave if I’m wrong.”

This is Yibo, he thinks. At once confident and insecure, bold yet shy, harsh yet tender, wild but delicate. Yibo’s passion for the things he loves burns like the sun that rules over his birth sign, unending and boundless. He takes pride in his work, relishes in the thrill of adventure, and burns brighter than any star Xiao Zhan has ever seen. The elder’s heart is racing too fast for him to catch up, pattering against his ribcage like a frightened rabbit and so loud in his ears he wonders if Yibo can hear it. 

Above him, Yibo begins to doubt himself in the face of Xiao Zhan’s silence, the defined curve of his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows around his own anxiety. He starts to pull back, but Xiao Zhan’s hand lifts to catch the other man’s shoulder. Yibo pauses in his retreat, bringing his other hand from where it rests on Xiao Zhan’s leg to his chest, feels the frantic pulse of Xiao Zhan’s heart, and the smouldering coals in Yibo’s look ignite into a blazing inferno. Already, he wants to fuel that flame, feed it until it eclipses the sun. He could be consumed by the fire that is Wang Yibo. 

Xiao Zhan lifts his head and falls head first into the blaze. 

Yibo’s kiss tilts his carefully balanced world off of its axis. It steals the air from his lungs, blankets over his storm of thoughts, and burns out all of the oxygen from Xiao Zhan’s blood, replacing it with liquid heat. Through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Yibo give the smallest of moans. The sound of it goes straight to his groin, and his muscles quiver with arousal, a need he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in so, so, so long.

Yibo’s hands are on him in a flash. Delivering so much sensation, Xiao Zhan can only anchor himself to Yibo’s shoulders. They scald over his hips, his waist, his ass, fingertips sparking into the meat of his gluts in a demand that Xiao Zhan has no intention of ignoring. Long fingers tangle into his hair and pull him in tighter to Yibo’s body. Yibo’s mouth pries his own open, and Xiao Zhan readily accepts as Yibo draws the air from his body, his very soul being pulled from his chest to entangle itself with Yibo’s sea of flames, a feeling so intense he feels he may combust.

Xiao Zhan realizes too late that he is already burning.

Yibo lets go of him to tear at his own clothing, his shirts coming off with a furious tug. Xiao Zhan’s hands flit across Yibo’s skin, featherlight and testing, dipping into the sculpted musculature of a seasoned dancer. The man gives a full body shudder at the touch, and then Xiao Zhan’s mouth is taken hostage once more.

A hand slithers under his shirt. Xiao Zhan’s belly quivers when a second joins the first. Yibo’s hands are almost big enough to wrap completely around his Zhan-ge’s waist. Xiao Zhan moans as Yibo grinds down, crashing their pelvises together, making Xiao Zhan very much aware of Yibo’s own arousal.

At this point, Xiao Zhan isn’t even remotely seated anymore, having sunk down into the too soft couch cushions, unable to push up and into Yibo’s fire as easily as he would like.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan grits out, finally tearing his lips from the younger man’s hold only for Yibo to begin tracing a scalding trail of kisses down Xiao Zhan’s throat to his collarbone. “Move. Bed. Now.”

He doesn’t need to say it again.

Yibo’s hands fist into his shirt and pull him up off of the couch. They shuffle through the room, Yibo half carrying Xiao Zhan as he continues his assault on the man’s collarbone until he decides he doesn’t have enough skin available to him anymore and yanks Xiao Zhan’s t-shirt up and over his head.

The black fabric blinds him for all of two seconds, but it’s enough to disorient him away from the proper feeling of gravity in relation to his poor, mortal form. He all but shrieks when Yibo pushes him backwards, and he lands on the mattress with a thud. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yibo pull something from his back pocket and chuck it towards the pillows, but he doesn’t have time to check what it is as Yibo’s hands snatch for his belt. A hand behind his head pulls him up once again to slot their mouths together while the other continues to tear at his clothes 

“I am going to make you feel so good.”

Yibo’s voice in his ear, husky and clogged with lust, makes goosebumps break out along Xiao Zhan’s skin. A quick but careful pull on his zipper later and Yibo withdraws once more to deftly rid Xiao Zhan of his shorts, boxers, and socks in one fell swoop. Xiao Zhan’s cock, erect and painfully hard, slaps onto his belly, and before Xiao Zhan can even process the fact that he is very much naked and exposed on the bed, Yibo is dipping his tongue into the space above his belly button, nosing his way down the line of his pubic hair. He plants a kiss on Xiao Zhan’s hip bone, curls his hands around either side of Xiao Zhan’s waist, and takes the head of his cock into his mouth.

He gasps, unrestrained and nearly wild from the hot suction of Yibo’s lips around him. It nearly scalds him when Yibo dips his head lower and takes him all the way to the back of his throat. His eyes roll to the back of his head, dizzy with the feel of it. Xiao Zhan’s hands twist into the fabric of the sheets above his head, and he breathes through the wash of pleasure that thrums through him as Yibo begins a steady ascent and descent as he sucks him. He forces himself not to buck up and thrust into that heat because they haven’t talked about any of this and it would be rude to assume Yibo wants to be gagged on a dick just like that.

Pleasure thrums through him. His toes curl into the mattress, and his knees fall apart to give Yibo more room to work. The man hums in approval, and it’s all Xiao Zhan can do to not come on the spot. He screws his eyes shut and calms himself, face flushed red and mouth open in a quiet gasp. His hand finds Yibo’s shoulder and he squeezes in warning. Yibo gets the message, easing up and pulling back to lave attention to the crown. His hips twitch but Yibo holds him still. A hand wraps around the base of his cock and squeezes to pull Xiao Zhan back from the plunge.

Xiao Zhan, breathless and heady, makes the mistake of finally looking down his body at Yibo. Yibo is looking up at him. His pupils are blown wide, the brown in his eyes barely a rim around the edge watching him as he unravels. The younger man gives one last suck to his length before pulling back and away. His lips are swollen and his hair is a bit mused from Xiao Zhan’s hands but other than that, he is the picture of everyday Yibo even if his eyes seem to be trying to devour Xiao Zhan, drinking him in until there is nothing left.

He must look a mess, red faced and sweaty despite the A/C. He feels like a mess. Any more and Xiao Zhan would have been reduced to ashes under the onslaught of Yibo’s mouth. Yet Yibo’s attention now, focused on him from where he stands at the edge of the bed absentmindedly palming himself through his pants, burns him in an entirely different way. A gentle seduction, a lure into the fire, and he thinks he understands why the moth so willingly flies to meet the flame. 

He pulls himself up onto his elbows as Yibo’s eyes trace over his form, learning him, soaking him in the molten heat of the man’s intentions. It’s too much.

Xiao Zhan’s stomach tightens and he turns his head to the side.

“Don’t,” his voice breaks, “don’t stare.”

“But you’re beautiful.”

It isn’t flattery or flirting. It is honesty colored with nothing else, and Xiao Zhan feels even more naked after hearing it. At least, Yibo is merciful for once, kneeling forward to close the distance between them. His index finger curves under Xiao Zhan’s chin and angles his head back to look at him.

“You are something else, you know that?”

“So long as I am Xiao Zhan’s something else.”

Their kiss this time is slow and balmy. A cinder in the pyre. Delirium clogs his senses, the fever of ecstasy just simmering beneath the surface like a promise between lovers. He brings his hands up as Yibo presses him down into the bed. Yibo’s body is like a furnace, sculpted muscle coiled and twitching under his fingertips. The contrast of his darker hands against pale skin is titillating, makes him ache to feel that body moving in and around him. Possessing him like no other before him.

His hands tug at the buckle of Yibo’s pants.

“Off,” he growls but it's breathy and almost whiny despite his intentions.

“Zhan-ge is too bossy.”

“Yibo,” he all but keens, fingers dipping in to unbutton the man’s pants, but he is at an awkward angle for it. Yibo grasps his hands and pulls them from continuing to fiddle with his clothing. 

“Patience,” he says, a smirk on his face, and Xiao Zhan wants to hit him, tries to, in fact, but Yibo has him at a bit of a disadvantage kneeling as he is between his legs, both hands held hostage in his own. Yibo just laughs as Xiao Zhan pouts, and the man nuzzles into the curve of his jaw. “Too cute, Zhan-ge.”

He plants a chaste kiss there that sears into Xiao Zhan’s skin, and he lets his head fall back.

Yibo holds both of his wrists together in one hand as he reaches behind Xiao Zhan to collect whatever it is that he threw there earlier. Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows lift in surprise to see a packet of lube and a condom in Yibo’s hand, remembering Yibo had pulled them from his pants.

“Always so prepared, Sunbae?”

Yibo remains entirely unphased by Xiao Zhan’s attempt to tease him, probably because legs are still spread on either side of the man’s hips.

“Only when I’m with someone I like. I had to make sure Zhan-ge is taken care of.”

Xiao Zhan resists the urge to roll his eyes at that and moves to turn over, but Yibo stops him, a hand on the thigh he was pulling up and over to twist around. 

“Where are you going?”

Yibo pushes his leg back down and holds his waist to keep him right where he is. Xiao Zhan looks at Yibo a bit puzzled.

“Wouldn’t you prefer if I turned over for this part?”

Yibo shakes his head, the coy smile on his face.

“But then I won’t be able to see Zhan-ge’s handsome face as I take him apart.”

Xiao Zhan’s cheeks heat up once more. He feels like the carpet is being ripped out from under his feet. Aish! This brat and his shameless complements. It’s too much. He is too much.

“Are you this shameless with everyone you take to bed?”

The words come out in a mad dash of flustered annoyance as he tries to save even a modicum of face. Yibo takes them for the desperate scramble for sanity that they are. He rips open the sachet of lubricant and promptly descimates any semblance of the armor that Xiao Zhan had been trying to erect.

“Méiyǒu,” says Yibo slowly, sounding out each syllable long and clear so there is no misunderstanding. “Xiao Laoshi is special to me.”

That’s when Xiao Zhan realizes this is anything but a one and done. The floor falls out from under him.

Before Xiao Zhan can respond Yibo is on him again, burning across Xiao Zhan’s skin, breathing fire into his mouth. Yibo lines their torso’s up and Xiao Zhan realizes for the first time that while he is taller than Yibo, Yibo is just that much broader than him, wider in the shoulders. Hands freed from Yibo’s grasp, Xiao Zhan winds his arms around Yibo’s neck and drinks deep of what he is being offered. When a slick coated finger circles around his entrance, he lets his legs spread further, pulling them up and back exposing himself to the gentle prodding before the long digit sinks slowly into his body with one drawn out push of heat.

The invasion is nothing he hasn’t experienced before but it’s been a while, and the stretch is delicious. Yibo thrusts the digit in and out of his body, angling each thrust differently, and Xiao Zhan lets him know when he’s found what he’s looking for with a gasp.

“There!”

“Yeah?”

Yibo withdraws his hand and returns to press a second digit in alongside the first with a sharp piston forward. Xioa Zhan turns his head to the side at the shot of fire that courses up his own body from the force of it. 

“Yes!”

“Good,” the man purrs before continuing the assault at a more controlled pace. He can feel the quirk of Yibo’s lips against the soft skin under his ear. Feels the way Yibo’s pleased laughter rumbles through his chest. His back arches into Yibo, his hips driving forward towards the hovering heat of Yibo’s hips and then bearing down on the gentle push and pull of Yibo’s fingers in and out of his body. Yibo never lets his hips meet his arousal though. He stays lifted up and away and when he tries again, a third finger joins the first two with a harsh shove. There is discomfort in this stretch, a little bit of pain but not much especially once Yibo’s fingers glide over his prostate again and stay, massaging the area with quick dextrous circles and spreading fire there long enough to have Xiao Zhan writhing, oversensitive and yearning. He tosses his head back.

“Yibo!”

“Almost, Zhan-ge.”

Even Yibo’s voice is now roughened with want. He kisses Xiao Zhan’s temple. Lingers there as the steam of his breath mingles with the older man’s sweat as he starts whispering the most lascivious things Xiao Zhan has ever heard the man speak.

“You’re so open, Zhan-ge. So wet like your body is trying to swallow up my fingers. Will you do that to my cock too? I’m pretty big. Do you think you can handle it? Do you think you can take me?”

He is a demon. He must be. A terror amongst men, and Xiao Zhan is his most recent victim. A willing sacrifice to the volcano.

Those fingers spread him further, opening him up to Yibo’s standard of satisfaction while Xiao Zhan can only stay and take it. His legs quiver, his stomach tremblings, and he feels like his brain is about to leak out of his ears. He could scream from the treatment Yibo delivers to his prostate, would be crying out were it not for Yibo’s tongue licking into his mouth. The endorphins pulse through his whole body like an electric circuit. Yibo lifts himself up and off of Xiao Zhan’s torso, looking down with half-lidded eyes at his handiwork. Xiao Zhan can only imagine what he must look like right now, spread out and panting, Yibo’s fingers still third knuckle deep inside him. Wrecked even though Yibo hasn’t properly fucked him yet. Hasn’t even removed his damn trousers yet which should be a crime at this point.

“I cannot believe you still have your damn pants on.”

Yibo chuckles, and Xiao Zhan gives him a sideways glare and swats at his thigh. His hand actually meets its mark for once with a satisfying slap.

Yibo extracts his fingers from Xiao Zhan’s entrance and wipes the excess lube from his hand on the bedspread. The muscles of his anus flutter around nothing, and he feels cold from the loss of his bedmate’s touch, Yibo now standing and finally removing his fucking pants. Small mercies.

Xiao Zhan pulls himself up the bed towards the headboard and the pillows arranging a couple so that he can be comfortable as he hears the sound of Yibo’s zipper echo through the room. The condom  
packet is by his hip one moment, and the next, Yibo has snatched it from the bedspread, having crawled his way up the bed to reclaim his place between Xiao Zhan’s thighs.

It is as Yibo is tearing open the packet that Xiao Zhan gets a good look at Yibo. The man is flushed as well, clearly just as affected by Xiao Zhan as Xiao Zhan is affected by Yibo’s ministrations on his body. A dusting of pink over his ears, cheeks, and collarbones that makes Xiao Zhan want to nuzzle into the man’s throat, maybe even leave a bite mark that only they would know about. Yibo’s muscles flex as he moves closer, his abs firm accentuated further by the lithe line of his tapered waist and the v-cut that perfectly frames the man’s hip bones. It draws Xiao Zhan’s eye to the dancer’s engorged cock, standing at full-mast and swollen with blood and excitement. Excitement for Xiao Zhan.

“Ready, ge?”

Xiao Zhan trembles at the dark, barely-veiled restraint inside Yibo’s question, a wildfire barely contained. Xiao Zhan is as ready for him as he suspects Yibo is ready to be in him. He is achy and wanton ready to be consumed entirely by the younger man.

“Yes. Gods, Yibo, yes!”

Yibo smiles like the brightest of stars, pulling the condom over his erection. He leans down, brushes his nose at Xiao Zhan’s temple. Xiao Zhan’s hands come to either side of Yibo’s head as he slots their mouths together desperate to drink in Yibo’s very essence since he can’t seem to breathe any other way. Yibo braces one of his legs over his shoulder, pulling him into a wider spread. He feels the head of Yibo’s cock at his root, anticipates the push and relaxes into the invasion as Yibo seats himself in a single drawn out slide. When their hips come flush against each other, Xiao Zhan is nothing but a quivering mess of heat and sensation and his head drops back into the pillows as a long moan escapes him.

Yibo’s voice is a deep rumble in his ear.

“You good, _Bǎobǎo?”_ (宝宝)

Yibo is holding deathly still over him, stroking his side as though to comfort Xiao Zhan in the face of any pain he might be feeling, but there isn’t any. He feels stretched and full and at his limit, but nothing hurts. Yibo has indeed taken good care of him. He nods and turns his head to plant a kiss under Yibo’s ear.

 _“Shì._ You can move.”

Affirmation received, Yibo draws his hips backwards and forward, short shallow movements that are more experimental shifts than actual thrusts. It’s almost teasing the motions, each one carrying a promise of pleasure and fire that doesn’t quite explode into Xiao Zhan’s being. Xiao Zhan plants the foot he still has on the mattress and angles his hips up on Yibo’s next push forward meeting the man halfway in a solid thrust up.

Yibo growls against his collarbone. The message is loud and clear.

Yibo’s hands find the tops of his hips and grind down as he pulls back further before forcefully resheathing himself in Xiao Zhan with a whitehot thrust that makes Xiao Zhan see stars.

“Yes!” he grits out, and Yibo responds by setting a ruthless pace, hips pistoning into him with just the right amount of pressure and intensity, each forward push driving a fever into the very depths of him. Yibo’s hips work him, sharp and precise like he’s been practicing his whole life, waiting for this moment to scorch Xiao Zhan from the inside out as the blunt head of his cock assaults his prostate.

“Ah! Yibo!”

His awareness closes off to little more than the force of Yibo fucking into him. Of lips and teeth and heated flesh. Of being consumed and taken over. Of being known. His fingertips clench at Yibo’s back until the man laces their hands together in the downy mattress and holds, his hips moving endlessly to work him into a frenzy of sensation, pelvis slapping against Xiao Zhan’s ass with each fierce shove. Yibo grinds deeper into him than he has ever experienced and still he craves more. Too much space, too much distance, so he crosses his ankles behind Yibo’s upper back and pulls the man in. The sharper angle makes stars burst behind his eyelids. Yibo’s groan in his ear makes his body tingle as the embers dance over his skin.

“Xiao Zhan.” Yibo’s breathy husk in his ear curls like the smoke from an incense burner. It wraps around him, blankets him. Xiao Zhan breathes it in, claims it as his own, and relishes in the taste of it on his tongue.

Xiao Zhan burns. 

Skin flushed, heart racing, senses reeling, he loses focus on everything but Yibo as the man reduces him to ashes, striking the flame until it incinerates between them both, Xiao Zhan’s name on Yibo’s lips like the final culminating note in a bolero of fire. 

爱

In the afterglow, Xiao Zhan lies comfortable and sated with Yibo’s head cradled against his pectoral. He feels warm, long limbs lax and pliant while Yibo strokes his side. There is tenderness in that touch. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time from a bed partner. Something he didn’t even realize he was lacking until Yibo gifted it to him. It, coupled with the intimacy they just shared, unravels something in Xiao Zhan that he didn’t realize had been wound so tight.

He tilts his head down to press his lips to the crown of Yibo’s head.

“Yibo?”

“Hmm?” 

Yibo smolders beside him, laid out long and lithe like a contented cat, though perhaps a lion might be a better simile. 

“Thank you.”

The dancer lifts himself up to look at Xiao Zhan.

“What for?”

Xiao Zhan shakes his head.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“Zhan-ge,” whines Yibo, as though he hadn’t just moments ago reduced Xiao Zhan to a senseless pile of flushed limbs and wrecked pleas for mercy. “What are you thanking me for?”

Yibo doesn’t even seem tired, just content and happy in a way that Xiao Zhan is pretty sure very few people have had the honor of witnessing before. His eyes sparkle with mischief, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary, but in the context that they are still both very much naked and effectively post-coitus, that dancing spark in those brown eyes is enough to give Xiao Zhan pause.

“Wang Yibo…”

“Xiao Zhan,” he whispers, pulling up to hover over Xiao Zhan again. “Tell me.”

“I told you it’s nothing. Just accept the thank you.”

“I’ll force it out of you.”

“Oh? And how exactly do you think you can manage that?”

“I now have an idea of what makes my Zhan-ge come undone, but I’m always happy to learn more.”

Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows rise up high enough to disappear into his bangs and not just at the younger man’s bold words. The other male presses forward, and Xiao Zhan can plainly feel the way Yibo’s body is already rising up to the idea of learning more about taking Xiao Zhan apart. He leans down and whispers into Xiao Zhan’s ear.

“Perhaps, I’ll make you ride me until you tell me what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Xiao Zhan dodges away from Yibo’s attempt to nip at his ear. Sets his hands on Yibo’s waist and pushes the other man onto his back so that Xiao Zhan is lifted up over him.

“Yibo! You have to be at the airport in five hours.”

“So?”

Yibo waggles his brow at him, and Xiao Zhan shakes his head.

“You’re a menace,” he declares, throwing a leg over Yibo’s hip to keep him rising back up. “And I doubt you brought another condom anyway.”

The lopsided grin Yibo gives him enough to stop his heart, and in that moment of being disarmed, he allows himself to be pulled astride Yibo’s hips, his hands coming to balance against Yibo’s chest. He can feel the man’s member slide between his cheeks. He twitches where he is still open and wet from their previous activities. There is also a small twinge of discomfort that tells him he is going to be sore tomorrow, yet here is Yibo asking for another romp.

“Are you even human, Yibo?”

Yibo just laughs.

“Tell me. Why are you thanking me?”

Xiao Zhan huffs.

“Just thank you for being you.”

For once Yibo goes quiet as though stunned. The moment stretches long enough that Xiao Zhan starts to fidget and would have moved over and off of Wang Yibo were it not for the man’s hands still holding onto his waist.

Eventually, Yibo sits up to nuzzle under Xiao Zhan’s chin.

“For you, always, Zhan-ge.”

Xiao Zhan leans down and kisses Yibo, drinking in the flame once more.

If the night goes by sleepless and heated, it stays between them. And when Yibo’s manager calls a few hours later, trying to figure out where he is, Yibo leaps up to rush around pulling on his clothes while Xiao Zhan laughs gently from the bed; it stays between them. And if when Xiao Zhan, still sleep-soaked and fogged up from too much sex, playfully says ‘Wǒ ài nǐ’ to Yibo’s frantically escaping form and Yibo returns to give him one last hurried kiss, it stays between them.

And then the door closes, and Xiao Zhan is left in the half dark hotel room, the bathroom light still on in deference to Yibo’s fear of the dark. Xioa Zhan goes back to sleep, bleary eyed, until he too has to wake up for his own call on set. He wakes up to a text from Yibo that brings another fond smile to his face. He still doesn’t quite know what this is between him and Yibo, but that’s okay. They have time to figure it out.

Yibo’s fire burns brighter than anything he has ever experienced, but he isn’t afraid of it. Doesn’t feel the need to flinch away from the intensity of it. Finds himself basking in it instead, finding comfort in it. It’s nice to settle in the flames and feel the warmth of the fire. 

Xiao Zhan can take this heat, drink it down and live in it, allow it to burn into him without fear of being destroyed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. While inspired by real people, it is not a reflection on the reality of them.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> 猛男 Měngnán - Macho - Overly masculine  
> 没有 Méiyǒu - No  
> 婊子 Biǎozi - Slut/whore - An insult for overly promiscuous women.  
> 宝宝 Bǎobǎo - baby  
> 是 Shì - Yes  
> 我爱你 Wǒ ài nǐ - I love you
> 
> A few LGBTQ things:
> 
> So I tagged this with LGBTQ Themes, and while I don't want to stand on a soap box and make a speech about anything, I do want to explain that rape and non-consensual acts are often brushed off in LGBTQ circles as things that are just part of being LGBTQ. "Boys will be boys" and "Girls will be girls" are just thrown around senselessly and the line between what is okay and what is not okay is often trampled all over by the very people we most want to feel safe with, people like us. 
> 
> While doing my research on LGBTQ rights in China, I discovered that rape between men was not recognized as a crime until 2015 after several cases made it to court. It is still widely unrecognized, and rape in general is widely under-reported and under-prosecuted due to stigmatization against victims both male and female.


End file.
